When The Man Comes Around
by The Flying Hawaiian 001
Summary: Carl is gone, Negan and the Saviors are still out there, and how is Rick taking it? A one-shot set after Season 8: Episode 8. Inspired by Johnny Cash's 'The Man Comes Around'.


_WHEN THE MAN COMES AROUND_

 _A short story by the Flying Hawaiian 001_

He was on his porch. He sat on a rocking chair, strumming away at a guitar. It was a sunny, bright summertime day in King's County. The sounds of children playing on the sidewalks, drawing with chalk, laughing.

While Lori was sitting inside, sleeping, and Carl was watching cartoons, Richard 'Rick' Grimes sat. He plucked at his six-piece, not knowing what to play. Just mindlessly strumming at the guitar.

His attention quickly turned from the guitar to the sound of the door opening. Out walked Carl, ten years old, short-haired, and still in his pajamas.

"Are you gonna play anything, Dad?" He asked, to the amusement of Rick, who chuckled lightly in response. "Now see, Carl. I was thinking about it. But, you know what the problem is? I can't think of anything good to play."

The boy tilted his head, eyeing down the guitar. Then, he moved his head upward, and looked into his Father's relaxed blue eyes. "Why don't you play that song that was on the radio?" Carl asked, as he took a seat in the chair next to Rick.

The 39 year old raised his eyebrows. "The Johnny Cash song? The one we heard on the way to school? On your last day?" He asked, to which Carl nodded his head, as if to indicate 'yes'.

Rick smiled, happy that his son appreciated the music of a man like Johnny Cash. When he was a kid, he never had much taste for his music, but grew to love the legend's works in his teen years.

"Well, alright then." He said, clearing his throat, and setting the guitar in a position on his legs that proved comfortable for him to play, as Carl watched intently. Then, he began.

 _And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'come and see'. And I saw. And behold… a white horse._

And then, he began playing. Rick strummed away at the guitar, ready to let the lyrics move from his mouth and out of his lips.

 _There's a man going round, taking names._

 _And he decides, who to free, and who to blame._

 _Everybody won't be treated all the same._

 _There'll be a golden ladder reaching down._

 _When the man comes around._

 _The hairs on your arm will stand up,_

 _At the terror in each sip and in each sup._

 _Will you partake of that last offered cup,_

 _Or disappear into the potter's ground?_

 _When the man comes around…_

 _Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers._

 _100 million angels singing._

 _Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum…_

 _Voices callin', voices cryin',_

 _Some are born, and some are dying._

 _It's alpha and omega's kingdom come._

 _And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree…_

 _The virgins are all trimming their wicks…_

 _The whirlwind is in the thorn tree!_

 _It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks._

 _Till armageddon, no shalam, no shalom._

 _Then the Father hen will call his chickens home._

 _The wise man will bow down before the throne,_

 _And at his feet,_

 _They'll cast their golden crowns_

 _When the man comes around._

 _Whoever is unjust,_

 _Let him be unjust still._

 _Whoever is righteous,_

 _Let him be righteous still._

 _Whoever is filthy,_

 _Let him be filthy still._

 _Listen to the words long written down,_

 _When the man comes around._

 _Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers._

 _One hundred million angels singing._

 _Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum._

 _Voices callin', voices cryin'._

 _Some are born and some are dying._

 _It's alpha and omega's kingdom come._

 _And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree!_

 _The virgins are all trimming their wicks…_

 _The whirlwind is in the thorn tree!_

 _It's hard for thee to kick against the prick…_

 _In measured hundredweight and penny pound,_

 _When the man comes around…_

 _And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts._

 _And I looked, and behold a pale horse._

 _And his name that set on him was death, and Hell followed with him._

Rick looked at the boy, and saw amusement in his eyes. "That was great, Dad!" Carl said, to Rick's delight. "Thank you, Carl. I'm glad you liked it! Now, why don't you run along and play, while I go wake up your Mom? That sound good?" He asked, as Carl nodded his head, and ran off. When Carl ran off to the garage, and Rick stood up, walking over to the door, in order to live up to his promise of waking Lori, he looked back to watch the boy.

In his face, he saw happiness. A joy that he hoped Carl would always have within him. That infectious, innocent smile on his face even through the worst of times. Rick knew he would do something great in this world. He had faith in it. And not a single Goddamn thing would get in his way.

* * *

The morning offered up quietness. Aside from the sounds of birds cheerily chirping away, there was almost complete silence. The sounds of walkers groaning and moaning was nowhere to be found. No guns were fired, no car horns. Just a complete silence.

It seemed appropriate for a funeral.

The surviving members of Alexandria stood in a small area resting deep in the woods. They looked disheveled and tired. They _were_ disheveled and tired, for they had gone two days with hardly any sleep.

And all the time they spent without sleep? Waiting. Bitterly, miserably waiting. Waiting for nature to take its course, and life to take yet another soul from this sorrowful life.

They watched as a bearded, middle aged man with long, brown hair patted down the final specks of dirt unto a grave he had dug into the ground. Ever since it happened, he had not spoken.

What reason would he have to? The man lost his son. His firstborn, the boy he had taught to survive, the boy he had hoped would the future of this Godforsaken apocalypse.

And as the dirt finally covered all of Carl's body, Rick Grimes stood before the grave. His right hand trembled as he stood up, and just… stared. He stared deeply into the grave.

Around him, all of the Alexandrians looked at the man. They pitied him, but why wouldn't they? They were good people, for the most part. And it is in the nature of good people to care for others, and feel sympathy for them.

But they knew to keep their distance. Rick was a man who had lost everything. They could tell, from the second Carl revealed his bite in the sewers, that Rick finally realized and accepted what he never thought he would be able to realize or accept: that he had lost.

As he looked into the grave, Rick almost expected to see something new. Or something familiar. But in the grave, he found nothing.

"You told me… before you… before you went… that Lori… Mom said that you were gonna beat this world. But… it… oh, Christ. Carl, I… I…"

The man could say no more, as he fell to his knees. He breathed heavily. And then, Rick broke down into a sob. He closed his eyes, and let the tears stream down his face. They soaked his beard, and splattered his cheeks.

And, while Rick cried quietly, the Alexandrians could do nothing but look. Look at the man who had become their leader, as he kneeled on the ground, quietly crying at the sight of his own son's grave.

Not even Michonne, the woman who had come to love Rick, had the courage to walk over and comfort him. She knew he needed it, possibly more than anything in the world at the moment. But, for some reason, something told her 'no'.

"I… I failed you, Carl. I let you down. This is all my fault. And I… I'm so sorry, son." Rick whispered, in a small voice, clear enough for some to hear him, and low enough for others not to.

Michonne could see that he was broken. She knew that, from this point on, there could be nothing left that would bring Rick away from a blow like this.

As she bit her lip, and sighed, Michonne walked over to the wailing, bitter man. She rested her arm on his shoulder, causing him to stop crying for a moment, and look directly at her.

For a few moments, Rick didn't know what to say, or how to say it. Then, he opened his mouth to speak, and, naturally, words began to flow out.

"I… I don't know what to do, anymore. I don't know if there's anything I can do. Or anything I should do." Rick admitted, the tears still flowing from his eyes to his chin.

With tears in her own eyes, Michonne gently pulled the older man off of his knees, and into her own arms. As she wrapped her arms around his upper body, and rested her head on his right shoulder, Rick found himself crying even harder.

Rick closed his own eyes, and rested his tired, heavy head against her own right shoulder. "... Beat this world…" He mumbled, resulting in Michonne removing her head from where it rested, as she looked at him. "What?" She asked.

For a split second, Rick lifted his head, only to not say a word. He looked deeply into Michonne's eyes. In them, he saw only sympathy and love for him, but also a deep concern.

He knew that all of the Alexandrians were afraid for and of him. They all knew that he was emotionally unstable. They had seen it before. And they didn't want to see just what Rick would do without one of the only people left in the world that he cared about.

But then, after biting his lip, he spoke. "He… before he went, he told me… 'Mom told me that I was going to beat this world. Now… you are. It's kinda like that song, Dad. When the man comes around… that man is you."

Michonne took in what Rick was saying very slowly. She heard the words, and understood them. At the same time, she was just as concerned for Rick as anyone else was. "Rick…" She started, but stopped before she said another word, for she could not find anything else to say.

Then, a radio attached to Rick's belt buzzed against him. Without thinking twice, the grizzled man grabbed the radio, and clicked the 'on' button.

"Good morning! Today's forecast calls for blue skies, only with a slight bit of heavy hellfire awaiting a few folks this afternoon! That means you and your little pussy friends, Rick! So… how's the kid? Did you ask him about his little 'sacrifice'?" The taunting, condescending voice of Negan mockingly asked.

At that moment, Michonne saw Rick's expression change. The tears that stained his face moments ago had dried, and his eyes… his eyes indicated only one thing: murder.

Rick brought the radio close to his face, and responded, "No… he didn't. And I never will have the chance to ask him, again." For a moment, all was quiet on the other end.

Then, the other line buzzed once more. "What did you say?" Negan questioned, the condescension and taunting nearly all-gone from his voice. "I said, I'll never get the chance to ask him that question, or even talk to him again. You know why? Because he's dead. Buried, six feet under the fucking ground." Rick bitterly remarked.

"I… I am genuinely sorry about that. I really am. I… I never wanted him dead." Negan said, almost genuinely.

"Well, that didn't stop my son from dying, now did it? And now, I want you to know that I'm a man of my word. I'm going to kill you. Not tomorrow, not sometime soon, today. And when I do... I want you to remember my son. My friends. My family."

 _When the man comes around..._

 _Author's Note: Another one-shot! Don't worry, I will get back to doing my bigger stories! For now, in light of TWD coming back on the air in a few weeks, I wanted to do a one-shot that displayed my take on how Rick deals with Carl's death. I hope you like it! Anywho, thank you all for reading! Please leave a review detailing your thoughts and/or criticism for me as a writer and for this story. And, as always, take care, and I'll see you next time! Until then, I'm the Flying Hawaiian 001, prepping himself to go to a birthday party!_


End file.
